


Move The Slow Hand

by JinkyO



Series: Take My Love In Really Small Doses [4]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Old Married Couple, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 23:52:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4412810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinkyO/pseuds/JinkyO
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a long day of work, Reese and Finch sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Move The Slow Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [talkingtothesky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/gifts).



John tightened the zip tie around Nakagawa's wrists, then, confident that the unconscious man was secure, he propped the crooked investment banker against the office wall next to his equally comatose bodyguard. As far as Numbers went, this case had been fairly standard. The bodyguard had put up a fight —they all did, but that was common too. Now, the only thing left was the clean-up.

He tapped his earwig and voice dialed, and a moment later, Fusco's sleepy voice came through the earpiece. “Hope I'm not disturbing you?" he said, smiling. "I've got a couple of friends who need a ride."  

_"It's my night off, Wonderboy!"_

"Now, now, Lionel," John purred, then relayed the address. "And Lionel, grab a cup of coffee when you get to the 8th. Stick around for the print matching. You can thank me later.”

Fusco was still cursing when he disconnected to make his next call. “Finch, did you get everything you needed off his computer?”

“Indeed, Mr. Reese,” his partner answered over the rat-a-tat-tat of his fingers on his keyboard. “I've already sent Mr. Nakagawa's client list to the FBI's Internet Crime Complaint Center, anonymously, of course.”

“And the bodyguard?” John asked, unplugging Finch's encrypted remote access drive from the banker's computer.

“That was a bit trickier. Our nameless bodyguard has friends in high places. Hacking into the National Police Agency took some time, but his prints are in the system now.”

“Not bad for a day's work.”

“And a late night. Will you be coming back to the Library?”

“I can.” John heard sirens in the distance and began making his exit. “Even later night for you?”

“An hour or so. I'm depositing the money we recovered into a series of off shore accounts, out of reach of the FBI, for Mr. Nakagawa's victims.”

“And after?” John asked, opening the fire door leading to the back service stairs.

“After that we can go home for a well deserved night's rest.”

“That's all?” There was a long pause on the line as John made his way down the steps.

“I don't want to give you false hope, Mr. Reese.”

John pushed open the heavy exit door and headed away from the building. “Have you eaten today?” Another pause, and John picked up his pace. “I'll stop by Shun Lee Palace. The usual?”

“Please.”

***

 

Finch was still at his computers when John returned to the Library, Bear asleep at his feet. “How's it going?”

“It's delicate work. I've enlisted Mr. Tao's help,” Finch said while John set the food on the desk.  

"Help?" Stopping to lean over Finch's shoulder, he watched the screen full of scrolling digits for a moment before he sat and unpacked the food. 

Finch pulled a face. “This is financial obfuscation on a grander scale than I'm used to.”

“I see,” John said, his smile still in place as he sat Finch's Slippery Chicken and noodles next to his keyboard, waking Bear in the process. “And how far along have you gotten with Leon's help?”

Finch looked up from his screen and over the rims of his glasses, lips compressed. “Please, Mr. Reese. Eat.”

John slumped back in his chair, kick rolled himself to the far side of the desk and started on his Braised Short Ribs. He ate slowly, every now and again dangling a noodle from his fingers for Bear. Across from him Finch rode the keyboard, occasionally letting slip a low curse, a barely audible growl. John was curious now -just how much money had Nakagawa fleeced from his unwitting clients? Enough, apparently, he decided after pushing his empty container away and watching Finch continue his financial unravelling.

He dropped down in the chair and stretched his long legs out, finding Finch's foot with one of his under the table. With the lullaby of Finch's breakneck typing in the background, John leaned his head back against the hard wood chair and closed his eyes.

 

***

 “John...”

“Mmmm...”

“John, wake up. It's time to go home.”

“Hmm?” John raised his head, wincing at the sharp neck spasm that followed. “What...?” Gingerly, he lowered his head back and tried it again, slower this time, compensating for the crick. “What time is it?” he asked, stretching his legs, arms, and back before considering another attempt.

“Almost two.” Finch was already standing, his computer monitors black, his take out container empty, and next to it, one of his many pain medication bottles. “Much later than I'd estimated,” he said in a low voice as he crossed behind John's chair. “I tried to wake you earlier,” he said, notching his thumbs at the base of John's neck and circling them against the tight muscles.

“Mmmmm...” John gently stretched his neck to the left, the right, then forward, allowing Finch to ease the soothing massage further up his neck, to the nape, to the base of his skull and back down again. “You ate?”

“I did.”

“You finished your work?”

“Yes.”

“I'm tempted to stay right here and let you keep doing this.”

“I know. But I'd rather you let me take you home and get you settled in a proper bed.”

“Okay.”

Finch rested his warm hands on John's shoulders and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “Better?”

“Yes.” John leaned forward slightly and squeezed his shoulder blades together for a moment before exhaling. “Let's go home, Finch.”

They locked up, and, Bear in tow, headed out for night. John kept watch on the dark corners of the sidewalk as the older man debriefed him on the money shuffle and a call from Fusco confirming the fingerprint match connecting the bodyguard to the bodies John had found earlier in his investigation.

“How long before the meds kick in?” John asked, watching Finch carefully pull out of his suit jacket once they got to the rarely used apartment five blocks away from the Library.

“About ten minutes ago.”

“Go," John said, dismissing Finch to the bedroom. "I'll get Bear settled.”

He fashioned a bed for the dog out of an armful of plush towels from the linen closet, then, set out one of Finch's fine china bowls with water and filled a second with the pocketful of feed he'd brought along with them from the Library. John gave Bear's soft head a scratch before turning out the lights. “Sleep tight, boy.” 

The bedroom was dim, the only light coming from the bathroom. Finch was already in bed, flat on his back and wide awake. John undressed in the half light. He hung his suit with Finch's on the back of the bedroom door, rumpled shirt, undershirt, boxer briefs and socks, tossed into the hamper. He left the door open for his audience of one as he stepped into the bath to brush his teeth and rinse his face and when he was finished, shut off the lights and stepped back into the bedroom, lit now by the bright full moon.

“Next time you should let Leon do the late nights,” John said, drawing back the covers and slipping in beside Finch.

“And next time you might consider leaving the Number to Detective Fusco.” Finch draped an arm over John, catching hold at the hip and pulling himself to his side and then his stomach. 

John eased himself under Finch, shifting his legs apart, adjusting his position, making space for the both of them. “Next time you have a hankering to build an omniscient computer that constantly spits out Numbers, don't.” 

“That computer brought you to me,” Finch murmured, low and sleepy. He lay settled atop John, his head resting on John's shoulder, one arm tucked underneath him, the other folded over John's chest.

John wrapped his arm over Finch and cradled him close. Moonlight fell across the bed, illuminating his smile.


End file.
